Pieces of a Broken Heart
by ignacia437
Summary: Ukraine reminisces about something that happened once in the dark distant past. Historical one-shot.


**A/N: This is a historical piece. So here's the history:**

**By the middle of the 1000s AD, Kievan Rus' (which consists of present-day Ukraine, Belarus, and part of Russia) because more or less the center of eastern Europe. However, over the next hundred years, Kievan Rus' went into decline, and the city Kiev was sacked by the Mongols in 1240. In 1242, the Mongols conquered Russia and forced the people to pay heavy tributes. During the 1300s, Lithuania, taking advantage of Ukraine and Belarus' being weakened, conquered Belarus and, during the 1400s, part of Ukraine. That last bit is not shown in this story, however. (Information from the good old ABC-CLIO.)****  
****Russia is Russia, Byelorussia/Byelarus is present-day Belarus, and Kiev is present-day Ukraine. My elaborate headcanon dictates that Kievan Rus' was the family of Ukraine, Russia, and Belarus, but only Ukraine was known as Kiev at the time; Russia was still known as Russia and Belarus was known as Byelorussia. Ukraine calls her "Byelarus".****  
****This story is Ukraine reminiscing on an event in the past, so the whole story is italicized and the beginning paragraphs are in past tense while the rest of the story is in present tense.****  
****As to "Nation's Mail", don't worry, I'm working on it. I should have said this from the beginning but I am a ridiculously slow updater. Fret not, my children, I'll try to get this on as soon as possible.**

**Reader: I am not a child!**

**Me: …Okay then.**

**Enjoy my historical Hetalia piece!**

* * *

_It seems to me there was a thunderstorm that day. Freezing rain poured down from the sky like tears from weeping eyes, drenching us in sorrow. Lightning flashed every now and then, glaring at us for one short second and vanishing before I could glare back. The thunder rolled and clashed mercilessly the way war drums grind on one's ears. My little sister, only a little toddling thing at the physical age of three, shivered and buried her face in my skirt, whimpering softly. I gritted my teeth, and with an effort, yanked my shawl from my shoulders and threw it around her, leaving my hands there to hold her tightly. Being thoroughly soaked with the rain, it couldn't help her cold and wet misery, but then again, nothing would._

_ We'd been living like this for some hundred years now. Little Russia, my little brother, not much younger than me, had been taken away from me by those cruel Mongols. Byelorussia and I, in the meantime, were left to freeze here in the rain, prone to any invaders and plunderers passing by. My power was ruined. For the last hundred years or two, when we still lived together in one happy family, I'd fallen rather ill. It wouldn't have been such a problem, as the sickness was not terminal, if it was not for those Mongols, who overran my country and seized my dear little Russia, ravaging the villages on his land and forcing him to live with them, making him pay ridiculous taxes. It pained my heart to see him, a wide-eyed boy definitely not physically older than ten, tormented and weakened in this way. As if that wasn't enough punishment, they then rampaged my own surrounding towns and villages, taking all they could and more, burning villages, attacking townspeople, the like. My sickness only got worse than before._

_ My worst fear, though, is that I'll lose my little sister. She's only a little thing who can barely run and still chatters like a bird in the morning. I'm holding on to her as tightly as I can, making sure no one who passes sees her and takes an interest in her, and giving death glares to anyone who does. I would normally pounce on them for good measure, but I can't anymore. I'm not even sure if my death glaring is effective. I've been weakened too much by my sickness. What if someone takes advantage of this and takes my dear Byelorussia from me the way the Mongols seized my little Russia?_

_ I bend down to the height of my little sister. She's still shivering and sniffing, but it seems to be more from fear of the thunder than anything. I gently stroke her beautiful, wonderfully soft blonde hair, forcing myself to smile as I whisper to her not to worry, that things will get better soon. The storm will be over and the sun will come out. Then we'll build an army, fight those Mongols, and take back big brother Russia. Then we'll live as a big, warm, happy family again._

_ Either she didn't hear me, though, or she doesn't believe me. She only rubs her big blue eyes and sniffles. I don't believe myself, either. I know she at least can tell now I'm much weaker than before, and that it's only a matter a time before someone makes either me or her his territory. There's not a huge chance someone will want both of us together; after all, my capital is located on the Dneiper River, a good strategic location. They'd want me first, and drag me off only to leave my little sister standing alone in the weeping rain. At her age, she would die. If she didn't, she'd be forced to grow up as fast as she can, even though it's impossible. She's never faced any real hardships before. She's too little. Without me to protect her, she would either vanish or be mercilessly taken over by other conquerors. On the off chance she does live, without my strong hand to guide her, she might fall into disarray or even go insane. I know about people who grew up without their parents or good older siblings. They live in the streets and end up in the madhouse or die drunk._

_ I clutch little Byelorussia to my chest tightly. I mustn't lose her, the sweetest little sister in eastern Europe, whose cheeks are as rosy as apples, whose hair flies like a bird in the free wind, whose smile shines like the sun on midsummer day, only just starting to string together long sentences. She doesn't even know how to read or write. A roll of thunder drums across the sky, and she buries her face in my chest, whimpering. No, I mustn't. I can't let such a sweet little girl vanish into the air, or get seized by merciless invaders like the Mongols, or spend the rest of her life shut up in a madhouse and dying because her people forgot her. She doesn't deserve such a fate. I must protect her._

_ Lightning flashes, lighting up the nearby ghostly forest. I straighten up a little and give my little sister's hair a quick rub. "Don't cry," I say softly. "It won't last forever."_

_ The rain continues to drench the earth into mud, which sloshes over our bare feet. Is it just me, or is it starting to rain harder? I tug the shawl over Byelorussia's head of exquisite fair hair. Just like mine in color, and like Russia's in texture: soft and blonde._

_ I think the thunder and lightning has stopped, but the rain definitely hasn't. On the contrary, the droplets are beating against my head harder than ever. It's like drumsticks tapping against war drums. Is it possible to be drummed into oblivion? I've never heard of it happening, but that doesn't mean it's not possible. Thank God I covered my dear little sister's head with my shawl; she won't be drummed into oblivion anytime soon._

_ It feels like eons pass. Is it really possible to be drummed into oblivion? The rain has already drummed me numb. I can barely feel it anymore; I can barely even feel my own feet, now half-sunken in the mud. I can only feel Byelorussia's warm body against mine and my hands gripping her so tightly, I'm sure it would hurt for anyone who tried to pry them apart. Well, then good. No one should be able to steal her from me now!_

_ Then the lightning and thunder starts again. Blinding light, like the sun's reflection off swords and shields, flashes into my eyes for a second, temporarily stunning me. Then the war drums thunder again. My little sister grabs me more tightly, but I've really gone numb. I barely feel her. I barely feel myself grabbing her tighter, trying to shield her from these destructive forces of nature. The glistening of armor blinds me again while war drums grind on my ears, into my head. Together they burn away all my sensations and thoughts but two that stubbornly hang on to life: Russia is gone. I have to protect Byelorussia._

_ A fit of coughing suddenly seizes me and I cough violently into the shawl covering my sister's head. My whole body's shaking with the force and I almost want to fall over into the mud and hack my lungs out. The only thought that keeps me from keeling over is that I have to live, to save my little sister and free my little brother from the Mongols._

_Finally the bout departs, leaving me gasping and with weak knees. I straighten slowly, trying to regain my breath, my gaze falling on the forest more unintentionally than not. That's when I see him._

_ I wouldn't have noticed him otherwise, because the rain is too loud for me to hear him stumble out of the forest. It's a good thing I noticed him now. I'm sure he's come to take my little sister away—or, worse, drag me off and abandon her here to die. I clutch her tighter to my body, frantically covering her with my shawl the best I can. I'll never let us be separated, especially by some stranger coming out of the forest._

_ He regains his balance and looks up right at me. His unusually handsome features are slightly familiar: brown hair tied up behind his head with a red ribbon, an unusually slim figure, but especially those luminous green eyes I'd know anywhere. Except…I don't know them. Even if I've seen them before, I have no clue who they belong to._

_ All my attempts to identify this young man suddenly screech to a stop as he slowly begins walking towards me. Is it just a trick of the rain, or the sickness afflicting my eyes, or is he…is he eyeing the little bundle in my shawl that is Byelorussia? What does he want? Is he trying to take her away? Is he going to kill her? Or is he going to give me help? No, his determined gait clearly informs me he wants to take Byelorussia away. I'll never let him do that! No, I will protect my dear little sister! I won't let him seize her the way Mongolia seized Russia!_

_ "Who are you? What do you want?" I cry hoarsely._

_ He says nothing, quietly walking at the same pace to where I stand with my little sister. I grab her ever tightly, eliciting a little cry from her. I'm probably holding her too tightly now, but I don't care. I mustn't let this rake steal my sister away!_

_ His green eyes seem to gleam in the dim light of the thunderstorm. "The Grand Duchy of Lithuania," he says quietly. There's a force behind the softness of his voice that startles me. I hadn't expected it from him: he's probably my age, maybe even a little younger, his figure is slim and he is only just slightly taller than me. His clothes, a partially-unbuttoned shirt covered with a grey-green vest and brown trousers neatly tucked into boots, are soaked like mine from the rain and worn and tattered—the hallmarks of a struggling nation. Better off than me, yes, but I found it unexpected he could have so much conviction behind his voice._

_But I've long expected what he was going to say next. There's no way I couldn't tell from that newfound conviction. And I'm not going to let him say it. "You won't take my Byelorussia away from me!" I shriek, giving him my best death glare._

_I really doubt he buys it. His expression remains reserved and thoughtful, his eyes downcast. Really, if I were in his shoes, I wouldn't have bought it either. My voice cracked and the rain is pouring down my cheeks as if I'm crying. Perhaps I am crying. But nevertheless, I hold the stare as long as I can, before another bout of coughing seizes me and I have to desist. I faintly feel my grip weakening as the coughs come harder, making me rock back and forth, and I barely sense my little sister tilting her head to look at me, her big blue eyes opened wide._

_Stop, stop it! I try to will myself. You're definitely worrying Byelarus and that's not good for her health, and besides he's going to use your sickness as an excuse to take her away! It's no use, though. Trying to bite the coughing down only makes it come even harder a few seconds later. As to forcing a sentence in between the coughs, it's not even possible—it stops just long enough for me to take a quick breath before torturing my lungs again. A stray tear works itself out of the corner of one of my tightly squeezed eyes. I want to cry, not only from the physical agony and the thought that surely, he'll take my sweet little sister away from me now, but also from the realization that in the matter of a few minutes (or hours? I've lost track of time) my illness has gotten worse. I'll have no excuse to hang onto Byelorussia in that kind of condition. Even I know that. Still, though, I'm going to hang on to her for as long as I can._

_Finally the bout passes. I gasp for breath, feeling faint and exhausted, swaying slightly back and forth. My legs feel weak and for a moment, it seems like they will collapse under the everlasting pressure from the rain. But then I feel my little sister stirring at my legs and I remember. Some high and mighty Grand Duchy of what's-his-name—I definitely don't remember that name, so probably those eyes only reminded me of some rake of a traveller—has come to take her, a sweet pure innocent little sister, away, and I won't allow it! Not on my own life!_

_I slowly open my eyes. It's then that I realize the whole time, he's just been staring at me. He doesn't seem to have moved an inch from before. He hadn't made a move against Byelorussia or me. What's more, though, the expression in his face has changed. Still thoughtful and reserved like he did before, but he looks a bit concerned and even a little sympathetic. If I hadn't just practically coughed my lungs out, I would have snorted. Who's he concerned about? Why should he care about me? Because I can't take care of Byelorussia anymore? Well, that's what he should want, because then he'd have the perfect excuse to seize her!_

_I also don't snort because I can't deny that he does have the perfect excuse to seize her. I'm too sick to take care of her. Denying it would be akin to denying that it's raining. Sooner or later, I have to face that fact, and I know he knows that too._

_He raises a hand—slender fingers extending from a small palm—and rests it on my shoulder. I nearly gasp in surprise and struggle to keep a straight face. His touch isn't too hard—on the contrary, it feels as if it was only to comfort, to soothe…but his hand is so warm. In a second, the heat burns through the cold, thin cloth that pathetically sticks to my shoulder. It's the warmth of a new nation, empowered with newfound strength and dignity, one who will stop at nothing to expand its borders._

_No wonder I haven't seen him before. He's definitely a new nation. As to his clothes…I understand now. They may be the hallmarks of a struggling nation, but he is struggling to expand his borders. Build a flourishing capital. Start new agricultural reforms, erect ports in warm water, grow and blossom like lilies in spring, fight against the most prestigious, feared invaders on the planet…and conquer, conquer, conquer small, prosperous countries like my little Byelorussia…_

"_Kiev," his voice softly breaks my thoughts, "I understand you don't want to let go of your little sister. But…I'm sure you see this too…there's no way you can raise her, in your condition. She won't be able to grow to her fullest."_

_I wish I could listen to him. I wish I could hear his gentle voice speak without being so angry with him at the same time. Why should I be angry? I have to say, what he says isn't false. But why should I trust a stranger from the forest? Him, the newfound Grand Duchy of La…Le…Li…Lithuania? He's a new nation, with his whole life laid out before him. What's to say he's just lying, or trying to comfort me? What's to say, even if he does try to take care of her, he'll eventually get run over by larger, fiercer, worse nations? Hell, what's to say he's even going to try to take care of her? What does he want her for? For all I know, he's going to throw her down a gutter the minute he's out of my sight!_

"_Why should I trust your word?" I choke out. "I've raised her for years and years for her to turn out a beautiful, polite, smiling young lady, and you're going to try to stop me from achieving my goal? I don't know who you are!" A surge of heat washes across my chest. Invigorated, I add angrily, "How do I know you're going to take care of her? How do I know you're not going to bring her up just to warm your bed at night? Listen, maybe I can't raise her because I'm sick, but at least I don't—I—I actually care about her, and I want her to be useful, be successful, prosper! How do I know you'll help her do all this? Huh?"_

_He says nothing. I continue to fume, not exactly aware of the words spilling from my mouth and not caring, "And even if you do try, who knows if you're going to get crushed by the Mongols? You really don't look like they've touched you yet. You're young, huh? Just founded?" I yell hoarsely. The slight movement of his lips pursing confirms my suspicions and pushes me forward. "Well, then, you definitely don't know how powerful, how merciless they are. They took away my little Russia! They force him to pay ridiculous taxes every year for his miserable upkeep so that they can run around, plundering from other countries, steal their little sisters! Who knows, maybe you're next, and they're going to take Byelorussia away from you and make her their slave girl! I will not have her dust their shelves, get whipped every—every time she—she does s-something she shouldn't just because she never knew their heathen language and—and—and—" I'm out of breath and the thoughts are sliding around in my head so fast I can't catch a single one to shriek at him, and is that his hand sliding down my arm so he can take away Byelorussia, I can't let him do that, I must not let him do that so I have to talk, talk, but I can't talk, I'm out of breath—good Lord…am I crying? I seem to still be stuttering, "And—and—and—andandand—" My voice is breaking, my chest is heaving, and my eyes are stinging while my vision is blurring more and more…_

"_Kiev!" No, his hand is still on my shoulder. It grips me a little more tightly, and I realize that all this time, not only was I stuttering "and" over and over, I've been shivering uncontrollably. I finally stop babbling, but my lips are still moving, especially my lower lip. "Kiev, calm down," he says again, almost in a whisper. Through the tears blurring my vision, I make out his green eyes, luminous as the moon, staring right at mine—into mine, it seems. Apparently mine into his, too, for I can see in some inexplicable way how he feels. I cannot put it into separate words—it's so complex—but what I find is so haunting I have to avert my gaze, forcefully blinking away my tears. Whatever it is…I can't deny it…it's not malevolent. At least, what I _find_ doesn't show itself that way. He really does want to help. He will do everything in his power to keep my Byelarus safe…but I don't want to probe into his eyes any further. Who knows if I can find some malevolence there where I had not found it before?_

"_Listen," he whispers. "I know someone might take over me and I won't be able to control what he or she does to Byelorussia…" The way my little sister's name rolls off his tongue seems—should I say, foreign to me, for some reason. Is it his accent? Is it the feeling he injects in his voice at that moment? "…but I promise, I'll try to protect her. I will keep her safe. I'll teach her about the world, show her about this time we live in…don't worry. Please don't cry…" His voice trails off, before he adds gently, "It's for the best."_

"_How do I know if it's for the best?" I retort, still not looking at him. I stare down at the little girl hugging my legs, right into her beautiful big blue eyes. She's looking up at me, inquisitive like a squirrel I saw long, long ago, when Russia, she, and I lived together in one big happy family. My little sister Byelorussia, pure as the color of her deep blue eyes, blue as the sky above the wheat fields on a hot summer day. I still think she had better live with me. How do I know if he's taking her away "for the best", he says? Besides, even if he is, not all things done "for the best" end up in the best scenario. No, I will not let her go._

"_Please," he says softly, a pleading note in his voice. "Kiev, you have to trust me. I will help her. I will protect her. Much better than you can ever do—"_

"_No," I respond harshly, looking back at him and meeting those softly glowing green eyes yet again. This time, I don't back down. I've calmed down now. I have to show him I will stick to my decision, and he can launch his recently recruited, freshly trained army against me, but I will not give in. How dare he say he can protect her better than I can ever do?_

_But he seems unfazed. "Kiev, I will," he says. Quiet and gentle, with that same subtle conviction as before, but this time, there is a firm undertone in his voice that makes even my confidence quaver just a bit. "You have to trust me on this."_

_His hand, which had apparently slipped off my shoulder, reaches out and rests on my arm protecting Byelorussia._

_He's going to take her away! Now! I clutch my little sister even tighter, glaring at him. But it's no use, his other hand takes my other arm and he starts pulling at my arms. I resist with all my strength, gritting my teeth, but there's no mistaking him anymore, he is a newborn nation, and newborn nations are strong. Or I'm too weak. With seemingly no effort on his part, he pries my arms open and takes Byelorussia, shawl and all, by her shoulders, drawing her away from me. She whips her head around, looking confused and a little scared._

_Byelorussia is scared…With good reason, too. This young rake of a grand duchy is abducting her, and I'm too weak to do anything. It's too much for me. My eyes start stinging again at the sight of her fear and nervousness._

"_Why are you doing this to me?" I cry, my breath coming faster. I try to step forward and take her back in my arms, but a wave of dizziness washes over me and I stumble. "Why are you doing this to her?"_

_He doesn't answer my question immediately, only looking up at me. Somehow, it seems there's a sorrowful tint in his eyes. Why should he be sad? He's the one taking my sweet, pretty, pure little sister away from me!_

"_I'm sorry," he says quietly. So quietly the rain almost washes the sound of his voice away. And for a moment, there is no conviction. Nothing hides the pure feeling of his words. Only sadness is there. The sorrow of regret._

_For a second I think he might, just might, return her to me, give her up. Then again, I of all people should know better. He only bends down to give his hand to my little sister, who takes it hesitantly._

"_Don't take his hand!" I almost blurt out. But somehow, the words never make it past my lips. They die in my throat when he stands up again and looks back at me so quickly I can't even read his glance, before turning around and walking away._

_I gape after them. Byelorussia clasping his—Lithuania's—hand, trailing a little distance behind him as if unsure whether she should follow him or not. She turns her head to look back at me, her deep blue eyes open wide as if asking what to do—run back to me or keep following him._

"_Wh-where are you going?" I finally stammer out. "Come back!"_

_He doesn't listen, or he's pretending not to. Byelorussia stares at me for a moment before turning back forward and running a little faster to keep up with him._

"_Come back!" I cry louder. All of my feelings—loneliness, shock, fear—suddenly well into my chest and I really, genuinely begin to panic. Where are they going? Where is that rake taking my little sister?! "Come back! Come back!" I cry, running a couple steps, struggling to ignore the dizzy wave that immediately follows. "Stop! Stop it!"_

_But they don't listen. I think Byelorussia may have turned her head back to look at me again, but I don't know. The dizziness overcomes me and I fall to my knees in the mud, panting, my eyes stinging mercilessly, my chest heaving. I can't see anything but the blurriness of tears. I can't hear anything but the rain pitter-pattering all around me, on my back, on my head, on her head._

"_Come back! Come ba—" I begin to scream, when the coughing strikes again. Saying it's worse than before can only be the truth. Involuntarily I bend over almost down to my knees, shaking, the tears forcing themselves out of my eyes, my throat burning and my lungs in pain. I can't see. I can't breathe. I can barely feel myself falling on my side, feeling dizzy and faint and weak but still hacking violently. I feel like I'm coughing my lungs up. Maybe I am. Maybe I'll cough up the pieces of my broken heart with them, too._

_Finally, finally, after what seems like eons of torture, it subsides, leaving me there, feeling like I'm going to faint, gasping for air. I lie there in the mud, fighting for breath, and weakly drawing my arms around me in a miserable attempt at keeping warm. My shawl is gone; it disappeared with Byelorussia._

_The thought of my sweet little sister, gone, finally makes it too much for me. I start to cry. Tears push their way past my shut eyelids, burning trails down my already-wet cheeks, as my lips begin to tremble. My breath comes even faster, making it harder to breathe. And my heart is broken. I feel like a failure. I let the Mongols seize dear, bright, curious little Russia and torture him every day, without me ever winning him back from them no matter what I did. I let Lithuania take my sweet, pure Byelorussia away from me and I didn't even lift a finger. I can't even manage my own health. And now I don't even have a shawl to protect me from the rain, still remorselessly drumming down into the mud. It disappeared far, far away with my little sister._

_I wonder what he will do with it. Dry it off and put it on himself? Give it back to her? Sell it? Make it into a coat? Use it as a cover for the bed he'll force her to share with him?_

_At least he has a bed and a new little mistress to warm it. I have nothing, no little brother, no little sister, no shawl, no house, no bed, barely anyone left on my land, not even my own land, nothing but my own tears and the sad, cold rain weeping like I am now, with no end until the day I die._


End file.
